Sins of Commission
by Misty Day
Summary: Vincent can't get Heather out of his head, and when he goes to clear his conscience, he finds a surprise waiting for him at the church. Written for the Silent Santa LiveJournal challenge 2010. One-shot.


Sin of Commission

by Misty Day

Written for the Silent Santa LiveJournal challenge. X-posted to , username "Misty Day."

Vincent sat on the small cot in his room within the church. He'd been sitting there for at least half an hour, listening to the sound of his own breathing. His breaths sounded loud. Labored. Heavy.

Wanton.

Vincent cringed at the sound and shifted, rubbing his arms in a futile attempt to warm them. Vincent didn't understand how the church could always be freezing cold. It was the worst at night. The blankets helped, but not much. Vincent idly wondered why such an old building didn't even have so much as a fireplace. The only thing that seemed to keep him from insanity these days was his imagination. His mind wandered to lots of different times in his life where he felt happy, safe, and most of all, warm. His thoughts seemed to interweave, completely helter skelter and incoherent. The one thing he couldn't seem to get out of his mind was her.

Her.

HER.

HEatheR.

His breathed hitched harshly and Vincent lowered his head into his hands. He removed his glasses quickly, throwing them. He didn't see where they landed, but thought he heard them hit the pillow. He heard, but didn't care. The rubbed his eyes with his palms, hoping the motion would help clear his head. It did not. He thought it might ease the ache that had slowly been growing in his brain. No such luck.

Without opening his eyes, Vincent walked over to the door and, rather than opening it, pounded his fists on it. The sound rattled him enough to cause him to open his eyes, but not enough to clear his head. His first thought was to walk straight down the confessional and spill his guts about his impure thoughts. Before his hand even reached for the doorknob he mentally stopped it and walked back to his bed, his footfall heavy.

Burdened.

He knew is he went to confession he would have to bear his soul. Physically no one would be there. No man would be in the "priest's side" of the small booth. But he would be heard. Something was always there, listening. Omnipresent. And while the thought of something watching over you would comfort most God-fearing people, Vincent knew that God simply was not here.

Whatever was watching had no intentions of helping him.

Vincent forced himself to focus, knowing that if he could just speak his thoughts and feelings aloud that he would feel better. After composing himself, he opened the door and walked to the confessional. The dark, winding hallways of the church were something that Vincent had gotten used to over time. He knew, without paying much attention, where he was going. He shut himself inside the small confession booth and knelt down slowly.

"I have sinned," he whispered, though it sounded loud to his ears. "I have had impure thoughts, for a long time, about . . . . her."

Vincent thought he heard something shift on the other side, but dismissed it immediately. The church was filled with things that made noise but where generally not "there."

"Heather," he continued, this time speaking aloud. "She . . . . confounds my thoughts, at all times. Every waking moment is spent thinking about her. I don't understand why I can't get her out of my mind. Since the first time I saw her she has . . . . possessed me."

This time he thought he heard a quiet, stifled gasp, but still thought little of it. The voices in his head were usually much louder.

"At night, I become restless. And when the pressure becomes too much I . . . . I, um, touch . . . ."

He found himself unable to finish the thought aloud, so in he said in his thoughts, 'myself.'

He felt something inside slipping. The rest of his thoughts continued in his mind. 'And I like it. I like it because she makes me feel that way. And if she is the cause of it, then it cannot be wrong.'

Vincent sat in silence for a long time before realizing there was a soft knock at the door. He slowly turned his head toward the door. There was complete silence for a moment before he heard it again, this time softer, more reluctant. Vincent opened the door and peaked out, still kneeling. A hand gripped the door and silently pulled it the rest of the way open.

"Vincent . . . ." a voice whispered. Immediately, he knew who it was.

"Heather . . . ." he answered in an even quieter whisper. She was here. The answer to his prayers.

She took a step forward and Vincent moved back, knowing she meant to come inside with him. He could not see Heather's face, but her voice and shape were unmistakable. She closed the door behind her. Vincent rose to his feet to make room for her in the small booth. He felt his breath hitch when she touched his hands. He thought it was strange that at such a close range that he could not see her eyes. A deep shadow eclipsed her face. Yet he felt her breath on his face nonetheless.

Vincent raised his hands to touch her face and he felt her moving closer. She was dangerously close to his face. The temptation was far too great for him to resist; he'd dreamed of her for far too long to pass this up. Without another thought, he leaned in and gave her a very chaste, innocent kiss. Her soft lips touched his with feather softness, every bit as wonderful as he imagined they would be. He moved one hand up to the sides of her face, his fingers lightly touching her blonde hair. It was she that moved the kiss forward, opening her mouth slightly and kissing him more deeply. Vincent allowed a moan to escape his throat, unable to silence it if he'd wanted to. As they kissed, he felt himself becoming bold and moved his tongue into her mouth. She pushed her body into his, and he leaned back against the wall of the booth. She began to grind on him, slowly at first but then rapidly.

Vincent felt himself losing control. His hands were running up and down the length of her body, feeling the mounds of her breasts through her vest. Heather broke the kiss, breathing hard, and began to undress him in the dark. Vincent felt her unbuttoning his pants and sliding him down. Heather pushed his hands away when he reached to undress her. Vincent felt nothing but ecstasy as Heather completely removed his pants and underwear and, without hesitation, put her mouth on him.

Vincent gasped, all coherent thought gone from his mind. Her tongue swirled around his shaft, taking extra care to lick the head slowly. She had no trouble taking all of him into her mouth, his cock reaching the back of her throat and making him gasp loudly. Her slow motions were quickly replaced with faster ones, and before long she was using her hands for added effect. She moaned as she worked, sending Vincent over the edge at an alarming rate. He felt the small booth growing hot and it became hard to breathe, but he didn't care. Heather placed her hands on both sides of his bottom and pulled him in close when she sensed his orgasm nearing.

With a harsh gasp, Vincent came, spilling his seed in Heather's throat. His breath hitched and for a moment, he believed he was in the Paradise that he had been looking for for such a long time. After a moment that could have been five seconds or five years, he reached down to pull his pants up. After fastening them, he realized that he was alone.

There was an eerie silence in the booth now, and the serenity of his orgasm was gone just as quickly as it had arrived. He was alone. She was gone.

"Heather . . . ." Vincent said, but knowing he would get no answer. Vincent could not stop the tears that pricked at his eyes, nor did he have any desire to.

This was an evil place.

Vincent walked out of the booth and back to his room. He quenched the candles the lit the room with his fingertips, unable to feel any sensations from the heat. He sat now in complete darkness. He lay in his bed, knowing sleep would evade him for days now.

And even though he could hear Heather's breathing close by and could smell the sweat that had formed in her hair while they were in the booth just minutes before, he knew that she simply was not there – and she never would be.


End file.
